Yang Zicang awoke to find himself inside a strange bus.
–I… didn’t die?-
Through the dark window, a yellow taxi drove past this bus halted in the middle of the road.
As it passed by, Yang Zicang saw, in the passenger seat of that taxi, a lean boy with a chiseled, cold face—sharp as if carved by a knife.
He wore a dark-patterned blue shirt, a black sports bag slung diagonally across his body, a cap on his head, and a blue ear stud in one ear.
That was himself!
Another version of himself?!
Yang Zicang’s pupils constricted. He couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched the taxi, carrying that other self and the boisterous little brother playing in the back seat, drive into a nearby unfamiliar residential area.
He slapped his palms against the bus window, pressing his face close to get a better look at that person.
–Hey!- he yelled.
But the outside world couldn’t hear a sound from inside the bus.
A flood of shattered memories surged forth—explosions, blasted and scattered flesh, a head tossed high, and a metal-winged, humanlike monster flying through the air…
Yang Zicang turned to look around the bus; all the men and women aboard were sunk in deep slumber, an eerie atmosphere enveloping the place.
It seemed someone’s heartbeat was echoing.
–What the hell is going on? No, I’ve got to get out!-
He stood up and rushed to the door of the bus.
Thick smoke filled the driver’s seat, where strange thumb-thick mesh patterns densely spread. Suspended there was a faint white halo blinking slowly, containing what seemed like unreadable numbers, and it was about to vanish.
The air grew thick and suffocating, as if something was about to be born inside the bus.
The eerie atmosphere made Yang Zicang’s hair stand on end.
The door handle became slippery and slimy, covered with a membrane of flesh; his hands couldn’t pull the tightly shut door open.
–Where… is this?- Several voices rang out inside the bus as the dazed passengers gradually woke up, the interior turning noisy.
Suddenly, in the powerless bus, the in-vehicle TV screen flickered to life with signal instability, and a voice crackling with static background noise emerged.
–This bus has entered the state of Breed-Night Prelude. You’d better get out within three minutes.-
–This door won’t open!- Yang Zicang shouted anxiously at the TV, unsure if whoever was on the other end could see him.
–Let me handle it,- a man with a combover stood up and walked to the door. Three others gathered around, all middle-aged men in their forties or fifties with considerable strength in their hands. Yang Zicang stepped back to clear the way.
At the same time, someone onboard tried to pry the window glass with a hammer and chisel, but no matter how hard they exerted strength, they couldn’t crack it.
–Ladies and gentlemen, this vehicle is no longer in its former state. In a sense, it is already a special life about to be born, and you are the nourishment that will give birth to it.-
The crowd stared blankly or with furrowed brows at the screen on the car’s TV monitor.
–Hey, who are you? Are you kidnappers?-
A fat man stood up and asked, then headed toward the driver’s seat to try starting the car. But there, an eerie chill emanated; before he even got close, he began shivering uncontrollably and dared not go further.
–There are about two minutes and thirty seconds left. If you fail to leave here successfully, you will become its food.-
The figure on the TV was blurry, the screen flickering left and right. Yang Zicang couldn’t make out its features at all.
–How do we leave?- a girl in her early twenties asked from the back seat, her voice sounding fragile.
–If you agree to a deal, then I will tell you the way to leave.-
The car quickly erupted in turmoil.
–So it really is kidnappers. Hey, who’s got a cell phone? Call the police.-
–My phone’s gone,- cried out a woman’s voice.
–Hey, weren’t I wearing different clothes yesterday? What the hell do you want?-
Several people began banging on the windows and shouting loudly, yet passersby outside seemed unable to see the bus at all, paying no attention to what was happening inside.
Yang Zicang, however, vividly remembered that he had already died once. He spoke to the television, –What do you want?-
–Hmph, at least someone here can read the situation.-
The shadow within the TV revealed an appreciative expression and sneered coldly.
–The deal is this: within seven days, you must pay me 50 years of Chronos. Agree, and the deal is sealed—how about it?-
–50 years of Chronos? What’s that? Some kind of merchandise?-
–Merchandise? Hmph, you could say so. To this world, it’s your principal. Make your decision quickly—there’s less than two minutes left.-
Those desperately pulling at the door found themselves unable to open it no matter what, and the atmosphere inside the bus grew heavier and darker.
The flickering sphere of light on the driver’s seat vanished completely, and at that moment, the mist spreading from that spot merged throughout the entire bus.
The vehicle seemed to tremble slightly, and an even stronger wave of panic suffocated the hearts of everyone present.
On the roof of the cabin, black web-like crystalline membranes began to grow, as if some horrifying monster was about to be born.
–50 years… Could it be that we have to use our lifespan to open it?- Yang Zicang said in disbelief.
The people around him glanced at Yang Zicang as if he were insane, then turned their anxious eyes back to the door.
Hearing this, the figure on the television paused, and a dry laugh escaped from his throat.
-**_I didn’t expect you to figure it out on your own. Hah, since that’s the case, I’ll speak plainly.
-**_This bus will devour all of your lives. Its doors and windows are no longer physically what they seem— your attacks are futile.
–To open it, you must either use time to ripen it, or smash it apart with a span greater than the time it contains. And with each additional death, opening it will only grow more difficult.-
The crowd stared at him in shock, their minds struggling to process this information.
–Let me do it!-
That balding man shoved through the crowd, his face twisted in rage as he gripped the door handle with both hands.
–Director Huang, you… you really believe that talk?-
–We’ll find out easily enough if we just try.-
–But what if it’s true?-
–Hmph, so what if it is?- Director Huang, his face filled with grit, growled in a low voice: –No matter how many years of my life you want to devour, just open the hell up for me!-
Whoosh!
With a heavy thud, the bus door burst open in an instant.
Director Huang’s skin visibly sagged and dulled; the thin ring of hair on his head turned gray, and age spots crept across his face.
Several ladies in their seats instantly covered their mouths.
The middle-aged man who was acquainted with Director Huang propped himself unsteadily against the car seat, his hands trembling.
He had aged—this was actually true!
Director Huang blinked his eyes vigorously, then rubbed them hard with his hand.
–So this is what presbyopia feels like… I just used up, over thirty years…–
A collective gasp echoed inside the car.
–Good, you’re saved.–
The man in the TV chuckled darkly,
-**_Since I’ve already played the good Samaritan, I might as well see it through. Next up—information about this monster…
–If you can kill this monster, not only its remaining lifespan, but also the lifespans of everyone who died inside it, will transfer to its slayer. Mm, enjoy death while you can.–
The screen flickered, then went dark.
–Quick, let’s get out—time’s almost up.– People around scrambled up in panic.
Director Huang glanced back at the others with blurry, aged eyes, then stepped out of the car.
–Old Huang, we really have you to thank this time. I didn’t know you were such a noble man.–
–Heh, don’t mention it. Anyway… everyone has to die sooner or later.–
As he set foot on the ground, his frail body tensed, gripping the car door frame. A few people behind him, eager to rush out, wanted to urge him on but held back in the end.
After all, this was the very hero who had just saved everyone.
–I…- Director Huang turned around to look inside, gave a slight smile, and said, –Sorry, everyone.-
Before the others could grasp the meaning of his words, he suddenly grabbed the carriage door with both hands, slammed it shut with a bang, and held onto the handle from the outside with a death grip!
–Don’t open the door again,- he muttered to himself as if in a trance.
Inside, the crowd pounded frantically on the windowpanes, but outside, Director Huang simply buried his head and closed his eyes, not daring to look inside.
–With my thirty years, it should be less than two minutes now, kid…-
Just moments before, after using thirty years to ripen this door, he had felt a faint, elusive response from within—this soon-to-be-born monster seemed to see him as its father!
His body burned with heat; after a moment of inner struggle, he finally made up his mind… Since he was going to die anyway, he might as well take a gamble!
–Sorry, everyone. If I could have gained more time, I would have been a better man in the future, rushing to kill more of these things to console your spirits…-
There were at least a dozen people in this carriage; counting forty or fifty years per person, that meant at least five to six hundred years of life!
–If it fails… then we’ll all go to hell together!-
His face twisted as he grasped the door, which had been battered out of shape by those inside; two or three times it was nearly yanked open, but he held it shut with all his might.
Three more people inside had already aged abruptly, cursing vehemently as they kicked at the car door—a door that, once shut, would only be smashed after consuming over thirty years of everyone’s lifespan!
–Wasn’t it already open? Why does it cost lifespan again!-
–I could feel myself speeding up its decay just a moment ago, but now I can’t anymore.-
The crowd seethed with panic and fury.
–Big brother, are we going to die?-
Yang Zicang was squeezed so tight he could barely keep his footing, and also tossed to one side by the crowd was a girl of about seventeen or eighteen.
Mu Xiaoyu helplessly choked back tears, clutching his arm with both hands, instinctively relying on the first person who had discovered that lifespan could be spent as their pillar of support.
–Die? No, no way!-
Bracing himself against the window frame, Yang Zicang gritted his teeth and grabbed the emergency hammer off the inner wall. Raising it high, he roared in his heart: I’m dead anyway—no matter how many years, break for me now!
Swinging with all his might, the wind whistling, he slammed the hammer into the window covered with a weblike crack.
–Crack!-
A fissure spidered across the glass.
The instant the hammer struck down, Yang Zicang felt the vital energy within his body being drawn out along his arm, engaging in a confrontation with the formless power surging through the glass.
In the girl’s eyes, Yang Zicang had aged noticeably in the blink of an eye.
–Break!–
The young man swung the window-breaking hammer once more, and another strike came crashing down!
His skin rapidly aged.
Bang! The window instantly shattered like aged tree sap, crumbling as he punched through it.
The two strikes cost him a total of… forty-five years of his life!
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